


Anchored

by strawberriesandtophats



Category: The Nice Guys (2016)
Genre: Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats
Summary: For the prompt:"I had a dream that March’s parents come over when he rebuilds the house and he wants to avoid any questions about Healy so he sends him to investigate this case, but the case shows that PIs are in danger. So Healy goes to March’s house and walks through the front door because he has a key, and this is right as March’s dad says “So, son, have you ever thought of remarrying?”"





	Anchored

March’s parents didn’t to visit until a full year had passed since he‘s rebuilt the house. Maybe they were waiting for him to run out of money and lose it, or perhaps they just thought he would not appreciate it if they came too early and had no furniture yet. They arrived one Sunday afternoon in their beat-up yellow car and Holly ran out to greet them. March stood in the doorway and smoked, ignoring the urge to pour himself a stiff drink.

He’d sent Healy out on a case and told him that it would be better if he‘d check it out on his own, since he was good at staring people down and this looked like a damn weird case, alight?

Healy had left, looking chipper. He hadn’t kissed March goodbye on the cheek or anything, but he’d patted his arm and waved goodbye to Holly.

It was easier not to have Healy around when they came over, so they wouldn’t start asking all sorts of questions that March did not want to answer. Healy and Holly knew what the deal was, and it was a good deal too. That was enough.

Just because March was a detective didn’t mean that he wanted other people to poke around in his business.

His parents wandered around the house, making pleased sounds when they saw that Holly’s bedroom was the one room in the house that had all the furniture it was supposed to have and her shelves were filled with books and records.

Holly pointed out all sorts of adventure books that Healy and March had picked up in a used book store which one of their clients owned and had paid them largely in books. She had a stack of Nancy Drew books on her nightstand.

But his parents also noticed other things, such as the multiple pots and pans in the kitchen and the second pair of slippers in the master bedroom. The slippers were larger than his and newer too. Healy loved them, considering them some sort of luxury.

March could see his mother raise his eyebrows at the rumpled sheets on both sides of the bed and the sheer amount of groceries in the kitchen. Her eyebrows rose even higher when she spotted the huge apron on the back of a chair.

March looked around his house and saw evidence that Healy lived there all around him, from the blue jacket hanging on a peg in the foyer to the extra pair of reading glasses on the kitchen counter. There was no way to hide all of Healy’s things. He didn’t want to.

“So, son,” his father said, making a sweeping gesture around the house, “have you thought of remarrying?”

Given the context that his parents have just seen all this evidence that their son is in fact financially stable enough to be able to not only rebuild his old house but also to keep down a steady job and raise Holly, it is not a surprising question.

Adding a wife to this mixture sounds like a perfectly rational and sensible thing to do, at least to his parents. There were lots of single women in Los Angeles, and many of them would take one look at this new house and accept whatever deal they had to make so they could live in it.

And his parents have seen all this extra evidence that someone else lives with him and Holly. So, they might believe that asking him about remarrying is just a hint to what he should do next, since he’s already cohabiting with this mystery person.

Of course, this is the exact moment when the sound of the key sliding into the lock is heard all around the house. Healy stepped into the foyer, running a hand through his hair and looking troubled.

“March?” Healy called, “Turns out that there’s this guy who reacts badly if PI’s start investigating him and I wanted to tell you before you pursued any leads-“

Healy’s mouth snapped shut when he saw March’s parents staring at him. March tried to signal to him that everything was just fine, but Healy just narrowed his eyes when March’s gestures became increasingly desperate.

“Who is this man, Holland?” his mother asked and inclined her head towards Healy, who stood as if frozen in the doorway. “Is that the delivery man?”

“Or the local butcher?” his father asked.

“I can stay outside,” Healy said, far too quickly.

March’s heart missed a beat as Healy started backing away already, a big bear of a man who could crush a man’s hand with bone-chilling efficacy and called Holly “sweetie,” on a daily basis.

And there was something in the way that Healy moved that rang a bell, a throwaway comment March had made about not allowing animals in the house.

They’ve been found out.

And Healy was offering to either:

  1. Give them all some space so that March could explain that he was totally platonically living with his business partner. (Problem: there was no furniture in that one guest-bedroom. No bed: no place to sleep other than the couch)
  2. Hiding out in the garden while March told them that he’d given his new business partner a key to the house and that he stayed over all the time. (Problem: They’d seen those sheets. And the slippers.)
  3. Stay out of the way while March explained that he got so many deliveries that he’d just given the delivery man a key. (Possible problem: delivery man is very handsome, ended up asking him to stay forever).
  4. Leave forever if his parents were unhappy about any of these explanations.



“No,” March said, “stay in here, man. There’s no need to leave. You live here too.”

“What?” his mother asks, staring at Healy and then at March as if there is no explanation in this world why the big man in the doorway would live in this nice house instead of her son’s future-wife. “Why?”

“Because that’s how we like it,” March said. “It’s better like this.”

It was a statement. He gestured towards Healy and then the entire house.

His parents just stared.

“I’m his business partner,” Healy said, eyes darting between March’s parents as if he was waiting for a bomb to explode and was just buying time. “We work together at the detective agency.”

“What is better?” March’s father asks, barely glancing at Healy before he addressed his son.

“Everything,” March stated, fighting the urge to fidget and to make a semi-valid excuse. They’d already seen what they needed to see. They’d come to see how things were at his house, how he was doing in life. And they’d seen it. All of it.

He waited until he saw the light of understanding in his parents’ eyes. He was used to waiting for clients to understand all sorts of things, mostly to do with the fact that their spouses were in fact having an affair.

“Ah,” his father said, “I see. That’s how it is?”

“Yeah,” Healy said, standing tall. “That’s how it is.”

March nodded.

His parents spent the rest of the visit asking March tentative questions about the furniture and Holly. They wanted Healy’s life story, which he gave them, censoring out the bits that they didn’t need to know.

They left as soon as it was polite to do so and March knew that they’d phone him to interrogate him some more later on. And they’d even want Holly’s take on this.

But for now, March was content to stand outside his new house with Healy beside him.

 Later, Holly would come home to find that her grandparents had left without waiting for her to come back home, and he’d console her while Healy cooked dinner. And when Holly had gone to sleep in her room, they’d sit on the couch in the living room, holding tightly onto each other until their heartbeats slowed and their breathing evened.

Eventually, they’d drag themselves to the bedroom and remove their shirts and dress pants and socks before going to bed.

Healy would curl up around March underneath the covers, stroking his back and shoulders while March hid his face in the crook of Healy’s neck until they both drifted off.

But for now, they just stand in the fading sun, their arms brushing as they watched the car drive off. 


End file.
